


Vote Coulson

by Selenay



Series: Assorted Fictional Recollections (AKA the prompt fics) [5]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Celebratory Kiss, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Sappy Ending, Trope Bingo Round 3, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 11:43:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1647464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selenay/pseuds/Selenay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somehow Phil had been dazzled by Clint's smile and eager excitement for managing his campaign (he still wasn't sure how Clint had even become a part of the conversation) and now, here he was.</p>
<p>Losing the student government election.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vote Coulson

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a Tumblr prompt from earthseed-fic: celebratory kiss/high school or college AU: Phil wins student government election (Clint was his unofficial campaign manager) and plants on Clint before he even realizes what he’s doing.
> 
> All inaccuracies about student government elections are mine :-D

"It was a great campaign, even if you don't win. Great campaign."

Phil heard that more times than he wanted to count as he walked to the voting booths set up in the gym. None of the other candidates for student government seemed to be getting the sympathetic smiles and pretty words over handshakes. Just him.

Okay then. At least he'd tried, as his father had always said.

He marked his ballot and dropped it in the box as he left. Mrs Delaware, the returning officer, gave him one of those sympathetic smiles and murmured, "It was a good campaign. You should feel proud of what you achieved."

Phil muttered thank you and escaped. Even the teachers didn't think he would win. Great.

He found Clint sitting on a table in the lunch room. On the table, not at, and Phil had never worked out how Clint got away with that stuff when most students earned a hearty glare from the lunch monitors, at the very least. Clint's feet were on a chair, instead of crossed under him, which might have made the difference.

Clint also smiled charmingly every time one of the lunch monitors glanced his way, which was probably the bigger difference. God knew, Phil had let him get away with some stupid shit over the last few months just because Clint smiled at him.

Case in point: the whole student government election thing. Phil had been vaguely thinking about running, maybe, because it would look good on his college application. He'd mentioned it to Pepper while they were dissecting frogs in biology, and somehow he'd been dazzled by Clint's smile and eager excitement for managing his campaign (he still wasn't sure how Clint had even become a part of the conversation) and now, here he was.

Losing the student government election.

Natasha was sitting at Clint's table, calmly eating her lunch despite the animated hand-waving Clint was using as he talked. Phil almost turned around and left, but Natasha raised an eyebrow and nudged Clint's leg before he could escape.

Clint looked over his shoulder and his bright, happy smile pinned Phil to the spot, just like it always did. It was really no surprise that Phil had fallen so hard for him when he had a smile like that.

Someone bumped Phil's shoulder as they hurried past with a loaded tray. It knocked Phil out of the stunned daze he'd fallen into. His face felt too warm as he walked over to Clint's table.

"Everyone really liked our campaign," Clint said cheerfully. "Even Mrs D said our campaign was great. Told you the cupcakes were an awesome idea."

Phil exchanged a look with Natasha, who shrugged and sent him a small, crooked smile. She knew.

"It was a great campaign," Phil said. His voice sounded slightly wobbly, so he cleared his throat. "Thank you, really. I couldn't have done it without you."

Clint's eyes went wide for a moment, as if he hadn't expected Phil to appreciate him, before one of his smug little grins wiped away the expression completely. "Fuck yeah, you couldn't. We made a great team."

"We did," Phil said. "We really did."

***

The atmosphere in the gym was so tense, Phil could barely breathe. He was sitting on the front row of the bleachers next to Clint, surrounded by the other candidates and their supporters. Clint's knee was bouncing so fast, Phil was amazed he hadn't got cramps in his leg. Phil wound his fingers together to resist the urge to grab Clint's hand and hold on tight.

It was undignified to treat his former campaign manager as a security blanket, no matter how tempting it was.

Mrs Delaware stepped up to the microphone that had been set up in the middle of the room, an envelope in her hand. She cleared her throat and there was a loud squeal of feedback. Nervous laughter filled the gym.

Phil pretended to ignore the way Clint had shifted on his seat and was kind of...leaning...against Phil's shoulder. The nice solid muscles he'd been admiring for weeks--OK, at least a year--felt really, really good pressed up against his side. Really good.

Really.

The laughter died down and the tension ramped up again. Phil's stomach felt tied in knots and his hands were sweating, and it wasn't all due to Clint's warmth seeping through his sweater.

Mrs Delaware raised the envelope. The rustle of tearing paper sounded louder than it should in the silent gym.

She pulled out the slip of paper and read it. Her eyebrows lifted.

Phil couldn't decide whether he wanted to throw up or run away.

"The senior representative on the student government this year is..." Mrs Delaware paused melodramatically. "Philip J. Coulson."

Complete silence reigned for a moment. Phil was too stunned to move. His name? It was his name in the envelope?

Mrs Delaware smiled. "Congratulations, Mr Coulson. You fought a good campaign."

That was apparently the signal for the gym to erupt in to a deafening cacophony of shouting and whooping. Phil heard his name being called from every direction, hands were slapping his back, but all he could see was Clint looking at him.

Bright blue eyes staring right at him, filled with so much pride and happiness Phil wanted to drown in them. Nobody had ever looked at him like that before.

He kissed Clint before the logical part of his brain could take the wheel and stop him.

It was only a firm press of lips, completely instinctive, but Phil jerked back as soon as he realised what he'd done.

Shit.

Clint's eyes had gone wide and surprised again. His tongue swiped along his bottom lip and Phil followed it with his eyes, wondering what he tasted like. The kiss had been too brief to learn that kind of detail.

The shouting and celebrations felt strangely distant as Phil watched Clint tilt his head thoughtfully. He held his breath as Clint's hands cupped his jaw, and then they were kissing again. Not a quick peck this time; a deep kiss, the kind that involved teeth and tongues and sent Phil's head spinning.

He was vaguely aware that the cheering and whooping had been joined by wolf-whistles, but he didn't care. Clint was kissing him. They were kissing each other. Phil's arms were wrapping around Clint, pulling him closer despite the uncomfortable bleacher seats, and they were _kissing_. Filthy, wet kisses; the kind he'd seen in movies and never expected to experience in real life.

They separated reluctantly just as Phil's lungs started to feel like they'd burst for lack of air. Clint's lips brushed Phil's ear when he spoke, sending delicious sparks of heat spiking through his body.

"I didn't volunteer as your campaign manager just because I want to get in your pants," Clint said. "Thought you should know that. I really do think you'll be awesome."

"I never thought you wanted to get in my pants at all," Phil said against his jaw.

"Tasha told me to play it subtle because you're classy."

"You were too subtle."

"Yeah, I'm getting that now."

As Clint hugged him tightly and more wolf-whistles erupted around them, Phil felt like he'd won a bigger prize than a student election. He'd won the best prize he could imagine.


End file.
